Rules
by Patriot-of-USA
Summary: True to her dominant and possessive nature, Israel has certain rules for America. Of course, America has no idea these rules even exist.
1. Loyal, Possessive, Survivor

1. Loyal

They exited the conference room silently, walking side by side at America's unspoken insistence.

She was bitter, keeping her head down to hide her anger. He on the other hand had no problem flaunting it, simply looking off to the side as they walked along, as if flipping off the nations he just got done yelling at. This time England had not bothered coming after them.

Once more, the world had rallied against Israel, and the woman felt it down to her core. They called her a rule breaker, unreasonable, and the Arabs had called her worse: words she did not feel necessary to repeat.

It had started with heated conversation; this only earned a look of disapproval from America with crossed arms. The topic was the possibility that she possessed nukes. She held her own against the world, claiming it to be her right to prepare herself to defend against her enemies, which in her neighborhood accounted for pretty much everyone.

Iran had snarled back, saying that should she have the right, why not him? That's when the Europeans had jumped in. France, Germany, Britain, all of them… they stood behind Iran. They were calling her to show cooperation, to show restraint, and trust. But she saw it in their eyes. The hatred, the….disgust.

_Jew…_ the word was considered dirty. Even still today.

And of course Iran held all them by the scruff of their throats with his oil. Those were the real reasons.

Still, she held her own and refused to submit. And then _he _spoke up. His tolerance was only so long, (which wasn't very much when it came to her). It happened the same way every time: when it became clear the UN was getting ready to rally, America made his signature killing move:

"Anything proposed against Israel will be immediately blocked by my Veto."

That earned him snarls from all around the table. And one fist slam.

"HOW MUCH LONGER ARE YOU GONING TO LET HER MANIPULATE YOU, YOU GIT?!" England shouted.

The Blond-haired calmly turned to regard him. "Are you sure you should be talking about manipulation?" He asked with a smirk.

Ah, so he knows about the oil too.

"Really America," France sighed, brushing his hair out, "Is it not about time you stopped this brash nonsense? As you can see, you opinion alone is the one that Israel should be protected."

Alone… alone…. The word ran through Israel's head again and again. She was used to the feeling. The persecution, the humiliation, the fear… none of it was new to her. They hated her for one thing or another. The Jew was the world's punching bag.

She was a fool to believe that the Holocaust would be the final straw. They said Jews deserved to be protected, they deserved a home, a place to be safe. Sixty years later, it turned out only one nation meant it.

She stood in frustration and moved to leave. Damn the meeting.

America stood slightly more calmly to follow.

"I'm the only one with that opinion, huh? Too bad my opinion is the only one that matters."

"AMERICA!" England shouted.

"And just what do you mean by that?!" France demanded.

Said nation only turned his head to regard them. "Who do you think pays all the bills around here?"

And with that, the two walked out. Now moving for the door, she looked up at him. His anger was evident, though he had surprisingly suppressed it well. But she saw the smirk with that last little verbal sucker-punch.

"That will cost you, you know."

The American raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" His tone was mocking, but amused.

"I have been alone for a long time America. I am used to abuse and ridicule. But you are still young, you may try MAKING friends once in awhile."

America looked like he was actually pondering it. This caused some alarm.

"But do not think this absolves you of your responsibility to me!" she shot. "You still have your promise to keep!" She turned away. "Or have you forgotten it, like them?"

She felt a hand, kind but firm, placed on her shoulder. And then another hand on her other shoulder made her look at him straight in the eye. She was more than a little shocked by his boldness, as well as the dead serious look he was giving her.

"Never."

Her breathing hitched for a moment. She didn't think he'd go that far.

"I will not forget that day….or that promise."

She should have blushed, but that would only be possible if she were much younger. Those words spoken would have made younger girls blush like corny high school romantics (as she noted with Taiwan. Ugh, that name made her mad). In her case, in Israel's case, it only reminded her of his youth. He was the only one who took the promise to protect and respect her to heart.

No one else; only the young would look at the promise like it was a calling, even if it meant getting hurt. A view that could only be held by the naïve. And, of course, it was not like she was heartless.

She expected him to keep his promise to protect, but the lengths he went to even made her shake. He made enemies with practically every Arab. And even his once longtime friends now turned on him.

"America…" she spoke softly. "You do not have to protect me all the time… You have your own interest to look out for. You can stand against me… once in awhile."

Yeah right.

"NEVER." He shot. "SCREW. THOSE. MORONS."

And that was the end of the conversation. Of course he would say that.

And why? Because he was a hero, and she was a girl, and the hero always protected the girl.

No… for him it was matter of honor.

_Rule #3 America… I do not need any more dead heroes._

- - -

2. Possessive

That girl's name was Taiwan. Israel remembered that well. She kept track of everyone America talked too. And this one she was not too fond of.

She was certainly beautiful. With a body that any woman would kill for as well as a sense of grace that was the calling card of well-developed intellect. Her whimsical nature was a just a show, and Israel knew who it was for.

Her eyes shot up to catch America showing a smile and wave in the girl's direction. She responded with her own happy grin and hands cutely clasped together like some schoolgirl.

Israel fought down a growl. Her eyes met Taiwan's, which had narrowed at the sight of her.

"_Look…but don't touch,"_ the Jewish girl warned with her eyes, her hand snaking down to hold America's. Taiwan's teeth clenched.

"_And just what makes you think he's yours?!"_ The younger Asian stomped her foot with her hands balled into fists. Taiwan's eyes reverted back to their happy selves and blew America a kiss.

This time Israel could not control herself at seeing the idiot's stupid blush.

"YeeAAH!" America cried as his ear was pulled by Israel.

"Eyes forward America," she growled.

Taiwan again stomped her foot angrily.

"What are you doing?! OW!" the Westerner yelped.

"Rule number ten America: girls are fickle things. We don't like to be made jealous."

"R-Rules?" America asked confusedly, still straining against the cruel pinch of her fingers. "W-What rules?!"

- - -

3. Survivor

Her mind had all but been obliterated.

Her people had cried now for years. And no one had answered. She now lay in the dirt face down. She chose not to turn her face up. The view through the prison bars that imprisoned her in the mud hole was nothing to look at: An everlasting grey sky, its color fed by the ungodly smoke stack rising to unreal heights, spewing out the blackish-grey soot that was once the many bodies of her people.

Bit by bit… she was eaten away.

It was not the first she felt persecution, but one could endure only so many tortures…

It was the Jew's fate to be beaten, to be put down, but she would rise again… only to be beaten down again. The vicious cycle seemed to never end.

And no one seemed to care…

And that's when she heard the gun shot.

It made her jolt. That was no execution. That was not the sound of Luger. The shot was more powerful. And she could hear shouts and yells from a struggle. One voice stood out in particular…

Germany?! Why was he here?!

And the other voice was foreign. Germany was arguing with it. The other one sounded enraged, yelling about the smoke…

Somebody knew?

Germany's shouts were no longer of anger… growing more desperate. And suddenly he was screaming…

And then another gunshot.

Silence…

And suddenly her gate was thrown open. She looked up in bewilderment. Who…?

She didn't recognize him.

It was face unlike any she had ever seen.

The olive-green uniform he was wearing wasn't European. She had never seen this man before. His face was dirty, his clothes too. Blond hair was matted down from sweat. But what struck the most were his eyes.

Wild and fierce, she had not seen eyes like those for a long time.

He jumped into the hole. (No one would do that for her.) He picked her up gingerly, as if she would break apart.

"It's alright. You're safe now."

Safe….safe….safe….

A feeling she had never felt…

Her own arms gripped the back of his shirt desperately clinging to him as tears silently ran down her cheeks.

_Rule #19 America… Never let go…_

- - -

To be continued…

- - -

The first three parts were small so I figured I'd combine them. The rest will be bigger though, so they will have their own chapters.

Reviews are nice… and motivating.


	2. Protective

4. Protective

She could hear nothing. Not the sounds of the shouting doctors and nurses all around the overcrowded hospital, not the screams and cries of dying people with got ugly wounds. Nothing but the loud and hard thumps of her heart pounding her to death.

She sprinted through the halls past staggering people whose skins were crusted with ashes; ashes of concrete and the dead. Every face was pale white, frozen in mournful looks of fear and pain, looks she was more accustomed to after a bombing in her land.

The people looked more like statues of a memorial commemorating a tragedy.

And there would be memorials for this tragic day… many of them.

All these faces… this place…. September 11th… the date just sounded ominous. The people, the date, it felt like a memorial in the making.

"_Memorial of the day he died…"_

No… NO! That was not happening… IT COULDN'T BE!

She burst through to the second floor.

Other nations were already there. England, France, Canada, these were just the first to get here, others would follow.

"WHERE IS HE?!"

The question was unnecessary. There were all gathered around one door, yet no one had gone in.

Was it-… no…no… she would not say goodbye…

She burst past them all and into the room. She stopped cold in her tracks.

There he was…America…brave and bold….her America….dying on a gurney.

They didn't have enough beds. Some patients were even lying on the floors. Most would die there.

She staggered to his side, and dropped. Her legs had failed her at last. She cried. She cried so hard, gripping his hand.

"You can't…" she stuttered. "You… can't leave…"

He gave no response. He was America…. he was her big, strong, idiot America. He couldn't get hurt.

With trembling lips, she kissed his cold hand.

Struggling to her feat, she looked down at his face. His eyes were closed. Machines were regulating his heart and pulse. He could not even breathe on his own.

To see him so weak… so close to the end…

Again her shoulders shook and tears welled in her eyes.

Her hands cupped his pale face. Even now he looked so perfect. Beneath the pale complexion, the blond hair dirtied with blood, and the look of weakness on his face she intentionally ignored, she could still see him.

She could still see that boy she was so fond of.

She heard the door open behind her.

England kept his distance from her, feeling the rising tension…and the inevitable question:

"Who…?" she asked in low voice. "Who did it?"

Britain flipped on the TV with the remote. She looked up to see the face of her new obsession:

Osama Bin Laden…an Arab… a zealot. Her eyes widened, her mouth opened so wide she gagged.

The one she loved… was hurt by those she hated the most. She was so enraged she could barely think straight.

She left the room without a word…

---

The Arab nations were in no way ready for her to enter the room. She had not even knocked. She just kicked in the door.

Syria stood up, enraged.

"ZIONIST INFEDEL!" He screeched. "HOW DARE YOU BLATEN-"

The fist in his face knocked him unconscious before his limp body even hit the ground. All the nations in the room stood in alarm. The rage on her face and the lack of the traditional vulgar response to Syria's greeting indicated she was not in her usual pissed off mood.

Of course her bared fangs and dilated pupils were a tip off as well.

"WHO DID IT?!" She screamed. "WHICH ONE OF YOU TOUCHED HIM?! WHICH ONE OF YOU LOW-LIFE BASTARDS HURT HIM?!"

Iraq was the next to step forward.

"I have waited a long time for this," he snarled, unsheathing his scimitar.

The Jewish woman did not so much as blink. She leaped forward, her elbow flying straight into Iraq's temple, sending him into a spin and crashing on the floor to join Syria's side.

Libya's swipe connected to Israel's cheek, sending her into the conference table. He initially smirked, but seeing her rise back up, spitting out the blood, he realized it had been a mistake.

With an inhuman screech, she grabbed him by the collar and threw him into the table. Her other hand held him by the hair, bending him over backwards so that his back connected to the table.

"WAS IT YOU LIBYA?!" she screamed. She tugged by the hair, only to viciously slam his head back down the table. And then again. And again.

She jerked her head up to the remaining countries, all of them now visibly shaken. "WHO?! WHO DID IT?!"

"I believe I may be of assistance."

Israel looked to the owner's voice…

"Saudi…"

She gave Libya one more head slam, this time knocking him unconscious. She took a moment to breath. Bin Laden…the Bin Laden family….the oil tycoons…of course.

She leapt on the table and bounded for the older Arab, grabbing him by the throat and shoving him to the wall.

"That…" she spat. "Was your final mistake."

Saudi Arabia snarled under her grip. "Let go of me, woman," he seethed.

She backhanded him across the face, and then returned her grip to his neck.

"Give him to me….GIVE ME OSAMA!"

"He is not here!" The nation shouted in response.

"HE'S YOUR'S!" Her eye narrowed as she nailed him to the proverbial cross. "Don't think I haven't seen the Wahabbis' dancing in the streets; the Royal Family is THEIR puppet Saudi, not the other way. Every Bin Laden, not just _him_, will pay."

The Arab's eye widened. "It was not them! WE DID NOT CONDONE THIS IN ANYWAY!"

Both remained silent, breathing heavily. "If I find out you helped him…in ANY way…" She threw him to the ground. "Get out."

Saudi Arabia wiped his lip.

"GET OUT!"

Although they didn't hurry, the Arab nations that remained on their feet complied.

She was alone now. Just her and those she had sprawled out on the floor.

She exhaled, and slowly lowered herself to the floor. She half-laughed at seeing the mess she alone had created.

What a mess… and it was all because of him.

"America…"

_Rule #7: You're not allowed to get hurt._

- - -

To be continued…

- - -

Reviews are nice… and MOTIVATING!


	3. Healing

5. Healing

The building was magnificent and tragic, all at the same time. The day was one to be celebrated, but not joyfully.

Most museums celebrated the triumphs of humankind. This one paraded its tragedies.

She looked to the line stacking up at the door. Every European had voluntarily come to the christening of its opening, but none did it without a little "invitation" from Israel.

On each of their faces, she could see their shame, their guilt. And she would do nothing to relieve it.

They deserved this torture. Everyone of them had turned a blind eye to the worst crime in history. Now they would reap what they sowed. They would be forced fed the results what they could have prevented

She had thanked only one nation for coming. Denmark had been a light in the dark during the war, doing his best to protect his Jews.

"_They are my children too."_ And she made sure to thank him for his effort. Only he would hold his head high today.

Her eyes continued down the line, eyeing every nation in line. Everyone of them… Everyone of them had been complacent, giving up scores of her children to the roving packs of wolves who all but ate them alive. And now they would fully intake just what happened to those they had thrown to the wolves.

And of course… so would the wolf.

Germany kept his head low, but that did not keep him hidden from the Jewish woman's hawkish gaze. _"Yes Germany… you look and see what you have done. See the scar that will never heal, your shame that will never be cleansed. Look and never forget it."_

"Work will make you free…" Six million times over she had walked through those gates.

Now it was their turn… "Truth will make you see."

They were here for enlightenment.

And one… she looked to the companion at her side…

One was here for closure.

America stood, but he slightly trembled. She saw the back of his neck slightly break out in a cold sweat. And from the look in his eyes, she could tell he was a million miles away from Washington D.C. right now.

In his mind, he had returned to the camps. Just from where she stood, Israel knew he was walking through it all over again. He was seeing the torture rooms she had been brutally punished within, the experimenting tables she had been cut open on, the gas chambers that exterminated her like an infestation, and the furnace she had been fed to like firewood. What he had thought were weapon factories ended up being his introduction to the true evil the world was capable of.

Israel reached out her hand, and gently enclosed it around his balled fist. The action registered in his mind. Seeing him look down at her, Israel couldn't tell how he saw her right now. Did he see her as she was right now, or did he see that skinny, soiled child that was no more than a skeleton when he pulled her out of the cage in the ground all those years ago?

"Israel," he tiredly whispered.

Either way, she could tell he was starting to come back to Earth.

She bit her lower lip. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

They were still across the street outside of the building, and already he was starting to have one of his episodes. The last one was years ago. She thought that maybe this would help heal him for good. Maybe it was just tearing open the wound once again.

Because he was so strong and powerful, she sometimes forgot how young of a nation she was dealing with. Still he put on a brave face for her, trying not to look scared as she knew he was.

Like Egypt's whip, Hitler's "final solution" had left a scar on her that would never fully heal. She also knew America's witness to the crime had done something irreversible as well.

She looked back to the line and then considered something: What if he lost himself to a flashback while they were inside? What if he attacked Germany?

"_Or hurt himself?"_

"A-America," her voice caught for a moment. "Let's go somewhere else."

His half-diluted eyes narrowed in confusion.

She smiled brightly as she could. "Let's go see the Smithsonian."

He always loved space and rocket ships… perhaps it was just better to keep this buried.

His breathing softened for a moment and closed his eyes. Then he shook his head.

"No." He looked again to the large building before him.

Her grip slightly constricted around his arm and her smile fell. "…Are you sure?"

He slowly nodded. He was still nervous. He was still shaky on facing his old fears. But still…

"I have to do this. I have to put this to bed… or I'll never move on."

Brave indeed…

She now pulled herself flush against his arm. "I'll be right here with you…"

_You can lean on me if you want._

He gave a tired laugh. "You're the one who suffered, yet YOU'RE comforting ME?" he sighed, clearly somewhat disgusted with himself. "This is pathetic."

"No," she answered assertively. "I know it hurt you too…"

"Not as badly…" he mumbled.

"It still did…" she whispered.

_And you're so much younger too…_

By now, the line to the door had died down, and the memorial and those it honored seemed to call the former liberator and victim, calling them to cry their final tears and to move forward with life.

Together, America and Israel walked across the street to the United States Holocaust Memorial.

"Rule number twelve America…" she softly cooed to him. "One step at time… just one step at time."

He acknowledged with a nod.

- - -

To be continued…

- - -

You know what would be really MOTIVATING…reviews.


	4. Isolationist

6. Isolationist

America had grown distant. He had grown distant from her.

"Why" was the question she was having trouble answering. At first she had thought it was the result of the attacks on 9/11. He was jumpy around everyone. Maybe it was just a phase he was recovering from. She could certainly relate.

But it wasn't just that. He now watched her more suspiciously. America by no means was actually rude to her, he had just become… cautious.

The fact that this meeting she just got finished with had taken place at all was a sign of that. She had completely zoned out while packing her papers up. She looked up to see the American Senators also rising from their chairs to go. This was not her first time being inside one of the council rooms in the Capitol building here in D.C. It was the first time however she was regarded so suspiciously.

The topic was sensitive of course: the issue of settlement in the West Bank. She had made her case that the conflict was nothing new, it had gone on for thousands of years. This was just the first time it was actually being broadcast on international TV.

But her argument did nothing to woo the Americans to her. They held a look of suspicious (some even scorn) in their eyes.

Walking out of the council room, she saw_ he _had pulled one of his Senators aside. And this one she had just talked too.

Even though she couldn't hear, she didn't need too. His posture was that of an interrogator, and the man he was talking with had his hands up in defense. The man pulled out an envelope from the inside of his jacket and slapped it to America's chest and stormed off. America stood for a moment watching him go, tapping the envelope against his open palm.

Israel eyed the envelope. She knew what was in it; she was the one who had given it to the Senator.

"Shalom, America."

The said nation jerked his face, as if caught off guard. She nervously wondered what thoughts must have preoccupied him so deeply.

"Israel."

She wasn't tricked by his respectful and politically polite smile. Her eyes instantly scanned every attribute of his pose, fully aware every deviation from normalcy she had come to recognize of him over their long relationship.

One foot was slightly before the other, as if in a guarded stance. His shoulders were squared off to her, and his eyes were locked on hers, trying to analyze what thoughts ran through her head, what plans must she be thinking, almost as if he were challenging her.

She had always been slightly invasive of his life; her lobby was powerful within his country. She had close relationships with many individual Congressman and Senators (she eyed the envelope in his hand again). She held deep contacts within his political system, contacts that some would consider to invasive. But ten years ago, he never would have acted like this. He would not be so… stand-off-ish.

"Problems with Senator Filison?" She gestured to the envelope in his hand.

Again he tapped it against his palm. "Just reminding him where his loyalties should lie."

She frowned. "Come on America, a trip to Jerusalem?"

The other nation reached into the white colored paper jacket in his hands and pulled out two tickets. "Round trip to Tel Aviv."

"There just plane tickets," she defended.

He eyed her. "Tickets you bought him."

There was a moment of silence now. Neither of them was sure how to continue.

He acted like he had caught her in the act of doing something.

"Is there some rule against that now I didn't hear of?" The woman asked. She did her best to keep the sarcasm out of her tone, but she didn't hide her displeasure.

"This is something all lobby organizations do America. Both your own, and foreign groups. It's part of what makes your system so great, so respected! It's just a token of courtesy. I simply wish to take them to my country to show them why they should see this my way."

America scowled. "It's called a bribe. This kind of trip would cost thousands for anyone else!"

He sighed. "Wish I could have a lobby for MY side."

Israel raised an eyebrow. So he felt infiltrated…or betrayed. Now she wasn't sure if he was mad at her, all lobbies, or his own politicians.

"Perhaps it's time for some new regulations on the system."

Her eyes widened. "Your lobbies are part of a democracy, America! You always talk about hearing the voice of the people! You were never one to fear it! Have the voices now come to annoy you?"

She stepped closer, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Has my voice… come to annoy you?"

He looked up at her, his eyes unwavering. "Most lobbies don't steal my military's documents."

She froze at the accusation. That was an issue he had held over her for the longest time. There was nothing she could say. She could only look away to hide the defeat in her eyes.

"And it isn't the first time is it?"

She winced. Here it came…again.

"Jonathan Power from the Navy, remember him?" His scowl grew uglier. "Or do you have so many spies in my home you can't remember them all?"

"America," Israel quickly, almost desperately shot back. "It's not…."

He waited expectantly.

"I know those times were… strange." Mild as her choice of the word was, it did best describe it. "But America, I was determined not to let it affect our relationship…" She looked him in the eye. "I never thought of you as someone I did not trust, America. We are friends are we not?"

His gaze did not falter from her eyes. "What kind of friends attack each other?"

The USS Liberty… her teeth clenched.

"THAT'S NOT FAIR!!!" This was one of the very few times she ever lost her composure. A weathered nation such as hers very rarely got angry at anything anymore. But America always seemed to be able to tick off every country in some way.

"I NEVER WANTED TO HURT YOU! I didn't know it was you! I would never-!" She hid her clenched teeth behind pursed lips. "Do you really think…I would harm you intentionally?"

She still thought about it… even to this day. The screams she could hear coming from the Liberty's crew, the horror she felt when she realized it was her own friend she had fired on her own allies. She remembered trying to call out to them, but the captain had coldly declined.

"_We're fine,"_ he had growled, promptly shutting off the radio. It was clear they were not; and she remembered the helplessness she felt as the ship limped away from her shore, wondering if they would make it home.

She remembered above all the look on his face: the cold impassive mask that poorly hid his raging eyes harboring hurt, betrayal, and turbulent perturbation, all at the same time.

Her mind snapped back to reality as she saw turn to walk away.

"And what about you?!" she cried.

He stopped.

"The information you held was critical to MY security! The information you held was important! And had Pollard not delivered-…."

America only turned walked away again.

"America." Her voice stopped him. At least she could still do that…

"Try to see it from my shoes… You are the only thing keeping me safe."

He turned around. She swallowed hard, bracing herself for her own self-deprecations.

"I am a small country America; small and in a bad neighborhood. I can only protect myself from my enemies by having strong friends."

Her fists gripped at her sides. To admit her own weakness was not something she liked.

"It's just what I have to do…"

America watched her, and she him. The look in his eyes told her he wanted to believe her, but somehow he didn't. He wouldn't.

He turned to walk away once more, and this time she had nothing to say that could stop him.

Her lobby was still strong, she still had great influence in how America approached her region of the world. The size and strength of it far outclassed anything the Arabs could muster, if they could ever even unite.

But still, she could no longer seduced him like she once did.

When he saw her coming, he used to grin like a child. Now he went on guard.

When she teasingly ran her finger along his chin he used to blush. Now he tensed up.

She was losing her grip on him…

Grip… when did she start thinking like that? Or was that how she always thought?

Of course he was important to her own defense, to argue otherwise was foolish. And their history was one of friendship, closer than most.

But there was something else… She was found of him too. His idealism, his charm, his beliefs, they were his strengths, and they were to be admired.

Of course it wasn't a relationship of just pure convenience. It wasn't just his strength she needed and her strategic place in the Middle East he needed. They both felt a sense of kindred friendship… a trust.

But she could tell… something was dying. Something they once had, but it was slipping away.

Maybe…already gone.

_Rule # 5 America… do not betray me._

- - -

To be continued…

- - -

You know what I like… you know what gets you more chapters….leave a review. Especially long ones. Those are nice.


	5. Uncompromising

7. Uncompromising

It was something only he could pull off.

Only he could hold her gaze (Without it being through a scope of sniper rifle of course).

She had stopped midway through her patrol to look up at him. America had set himself up in one of these trees, laying himself out on one of the top branches with his head resting along the stock of his sniper rifle, keeping his scope pointed to the horizon, ever vigilant for the Hezbollah soldiers they were hunting.

Nights in Tel Aviv held a strange magic. The night lights glowing the dark illuminated the trees sprouting from the desert rock. Seeing them like made them seem to almost glow, radiating off the thousands of years of memory line in each ring of their trunks.

It hypnotized her, almost making her forget where she was in time.

"Come down Zacheius…" The words left her mouth before she could redact them from her thoughts. America hadn't heard her.

For a moment in time, he had looked like him. For a second, she had remembered simpler times, times she watched through the eyes of people who now only lived in the sacred texts of Abraham. It was one of the strange little catches that came from living in a land as old as hers.

And throughout that long time she had lived, she had seen more than her own lands. Through the eyes of the Jewish Diaspora, she had seen the world. Wherever her people went, so did her eyes. What they saw, she saw. What they felt… she felt.

The triumphs and tragedies had stacked over the years, turning her memory into a thick rolodex of experiences.

Throughout her time, she had watched the rise and fall of empires, the advancement of man's knowledge and appetites, as well as bear witness to things that should have changed but didn't.

One of these things was her position of an outsider. Never were her people actually looked at as those who belonged, but rather those who only visited (and for some even that was unacceptable). Always… she was unwelcome…and outsider.

Again, she looked up at the nation she for a moment mistaken for a Zacheius. And then he came.

He was nation built of outsiders. All throughout her life, through her people, she had sought acceptance.

And he was he, one-time little America, who REJECTED the world! Him… the product of the top class, and yet he had forsaken Britain's lineage to carve out his own destiny.

He saw its norms, its standardized, those who ruled, those who slaved, all of them separated by some border of skin, heritage, language, or status. And he had rejected them all. His shot was one that was truly heard around the world; especially by her.

So for one more time, she again sought home and traveled to America.

She still remembered that day at Ellis Island. The brisk morning air made the Jews in coats too light for the season shiver and conglomerate together, slightly out of fear of the unknown. Optimism was trait that had vanished from Jewish kind after so many inhospitable lands.

And then she saw him. A huge grin, a pose with confidence… and she knew they would be okay. Her children may not have been with her, but now they had a place to call home.

Like a child, America had been all but excited to bring her children into his nation.

"I'm America, you're gonna love it here!" That was certainly a new kind of greeting she got. His confident (if yet slightly childish and cocky) greeting had brought a few smiles to the faces of the first Jewish immigrants, and in time those smiles stuck.

The sight of outsiders made most nations scrunch their noses. Like only a kid could, America thought difference was cool. It was something new, and America liked new.

He looked at them as his own citizens, and she had rewarded him for his kindness.

The Jewish values of hard work and perseverance that had developed over the centuries in exile were put to grindstone as her people advanced in technology, science, math, and all other facets of human advancement. In other nations, the Jews would reviled for their success in a land where they only "visited" while the nation's indigenous lagged in progress.

Not here though, any accomplishment her people made, America's usual reaction was "Sweet! Let's try it!"

Him "trying it" didn't usually end well, giving her a lot of practice with her medical advancements… a lot of practice.

But still his spirit stayed strong, as well as principle of "All men are created equal." (Although she sometimes pinched him for not putting "women" in their too, usually being met with his complaint of her "translating it too literal." But she'd pester him on it another day.)

And in the end, her rewards to him for his principles ended up rescuing her.

Although most of her soul was imprisoned within Hitler's camps, a small piece of her still lived on through America. The few Jews who lived free from fear and harm on the other half of the world helped ready America for the fight. There advances in technology armed him for the what would be the greatest battle of his life.

It had been part of what kept her going. She knew that one day he would come. And sure enough, he had.

And it was there she was reminded that he was child. Pulling her from her cell in the ground, they tightly embraced. She had tears spilling down her cheeks and she gripped him tight as did he. But still she smiled. Pulling away however, she saw that he was not. The tears trailed down his cheeks, but his eyes had grown hard. The childish glow that was radiated from him baby blue eyes had now morphed into a wild and dangerous azure storm. War had taken its toll.

She remembered feeling somewhat nervous as he pulled her along through the camp with an arm protectively holding her by the waist. His soldiers had rounded up the Nazi officers, shouting and screaming at them, beating them with butt of their rifles. Germany cried out to America, begging him to stop.

America only coldly regarded him, and lifted his revolver, putting Germany's forehead in the crosshairs. The beating by the America GIs stopped suddenly. They all stepped back…and cocked their rifles.

Their screams now became more frantic, but the soldiers just coldly stared back through their rifle sights, following the lead of their nation.

He let go of her waist and slowly advanced on Germany.

Her form captor and tormenter continued to babble, desperately explaining.

"I-I didn't know America! I DIDN'T WANT THIS FROM-…PLEASE!!!"

"Racist…" His voice had grown raspy from the countless battle cries, screams, and shouts he had expelled from his lungs over the four very long years he spent in the war. "So full of your hatred you can't even see straight. You're mistake…"

His voice was so emotionless… not a voice that belonged to the world's youngest nation.

"You're too dangerous to let live." He cocked his gun. "You need to be eliminated."

He squeezed the trigger. Germany's head snapped. More gunshots followed, ending the lives of those who had tortured for longer than she could remember now.

America turned to his soldiers. "Go… get the civilians drag them here if you have too. I want them to see every bit of what their Fuehrer did here."

It was at this point she wondered if the world had killed him. She wondered if that young, enthusiastic boy that had been the only one to ever adopt her with open arms had died in the war. And if he had… what had replaced it?

Israel gazed out to Tel Aviv's light in the distant. Faintly, she could hear the sounds of construction in the distance. How many times now was she rebuilding those buildings? Torn apart by war, only to be rebuilt…

The question of America's spiritual death was answered in the last way she could imagine. Europe, torn by war and hanging open like a rotten wound offered very little to any conqueror.

She now knew she would see America's true form. Would he leave and return to his life, or would the temptations of empire and bitter sentiments of revenge crush his lofty ideals.

He did neither. What he did do made her jaw drop.

He rebuilt Europe. Better than it was before.

In her thousands of years of existence, she had never seen anything like America's Marshall Plan. Since when was the victor giving the spoils of war to the defeated enemy?

Indeed, America had not taken anything from Europe, now reparations from Germany or Japan, no payment from the captured nations for their liberation, he instead gave, to rebuilt.

Now of course this was not out of sheer benevolence, he did have Russia to content with in the East. But still… he had not acted like Russia.

"Why did you do it?" she remembered asking. "Wasn't Germany the enemy? Wouldn't it be easier to simply conquer like Russia did?"

"I'm not the bad guy." His answered made her eye quirk.

He looked to her smiling that familiar, slightly cocky smile that he had shown before the war. "I never saw Germany as my enemy." He winked at her. "Just the bad ones."

His eyes turned from her to the large "Iron Curtain" before them. "By only enemy is evil… and I will always fight the evil to protect those who can't do it themselves."

He pointed at the wall, as if piecing the cold concrete with the sheer power of will. "Right now, there are countless people trying to get beyond that wall now Israel. They're the reason I fight."

That was America. It was never power, for wealth, or the question of status.

For him, it was a child's view: Good versus Evil. It was simple as that to him.

She smiled. He had never died. The boy she had grown fond had gone through the war, but his beliefs stayed intact. A lump in her throat made her hiccup.

She had seen too many evils to believe in good intentions any more. Nations only sought interest. That was the fate of a greedy world. But maybe this America, and his dream to "fight evil," proved that some good still lived. It made her smile to think there was someone who still saw the world through a child's eye.

"Rule number one, America," she whispered under her breath with a smile. "Never change."

- - -

End.

- - -

Well the story has come to end. I appreciate all of those of you who reviewed and hope all of my readers have enjoyed this fanfic. Any final reviews would be much appreciated. Thanks guys!


End file.
